she's living in her catastrophe now,
she lit it up and got out.
and she got out of this town
like a hot air balloon, you know.

he's got a freckle on the back of his hand,
and he writes lines of poetry
on dirty bathroom stalls.
and he doesn't know how beautiful that makes him.

they're dreaming over the horizon;
you know, they still wish on that 11:11 star.
they're leaving pieces of themselves under rocks
and the beating of their swollen hearts.
 
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